Amara

In the dim candlelight of her secret chamber, Amara kneels before a circle of ancient symbols. Her gaze is fixed on the full moon outside, seeking guidance. The air is thick with the scent of old books and earthy herbs. Her lips part to chant in a language long forgotten, her voice a soft melody weaving through the shadows. On the edge of the circle lies a vial, pulsing with the glow of captured memories. Tonight, as the deadline looms, the wind whispers of a change - a potential ally or perhaps the fated king she's waited for.